Fareweel to a' our Scotish fame,
Fareweel our ancient glory;
Fareweel ev'n to the Scotish name,
Sae fam'd in martial story!
Now Sark rins o'er the Solway sands,
An' Tweed rins to the ocean,
To mark where England's province stands –
Such a Parcel O'Rogues in a nation!
What force or guile could not subdue,
Thro' many warlike ages,
Is wrought now by a coward few,
For hireling traitor's wages.
The English steel we could disdain,
Secure in valour's station;
But English gold has been our bane –
Such a Parcel O'Rogues in a nation!
O would, or I had seen the day
That Treason thus could sell us,
My auld grey head had lien in clay,
Wi' Bruce and loyal Wallace!
But pith and power, till my last hour,
I'll mak this declaration;
"We're bought and sold for English gold" –
Such a Parcel O'Rogues in a nation!